


Wonderwall

by Verocity



Category: 2PM (Band)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-29
Updated: 2016-02-29
Packaged: 2018-05-23 23:42:25
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,946
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6134089
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Verocity/pseuds/Verocity
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>By now, you should have somehow realized what you're not to do</p>
            </blockquote>





	Wonderwall

**Author's Note:**

> Pinch hit for the unreal_2pm challenge on LJ. Originally posted [here](http://unreal-2pm.livejournal.com/10377.html)

It starts with Wooyoung pouring water on his hair in front of twelve thousand fans, a concession to fanservice that's more likely a chance to cool himself after more than an hour crisping under the parlights and burning the stage with dancing. White shirt on pale skin, bright light and the love of fans. Wooyoung is practically glowing silver.

It's five acts before the last number. Chansung is loitering at the side, low-key and watched only by dedicated fans, his mic held loosely and his shirt sticking to him all over. He doesn't mind. Sweaty is a good look on him.

Wooyoung has just emptied his bottle and is taking a short breather with his eyes closed. Nichkhun is at centerstage, completely in his element when he has a keyboard in front of him. Minjun is watching him proudly. Nichkhun, under Minjun's tutelage, hs grown so much as a singer. Taecyeon, on the other hand, is stalking Wooyoung, seconds away from pulling his shirt off and Wooyoung is too buzzed on adrenaline to notice.

But for a moment that burns into Chansung's memories, Wooyoung looks... transcendent.

A soft nudge at the back of Chansung's head shakes him out of his thoughts. "What'cha thinking?" Junho, of course, looks nothing short of otherworldly.

"Nothing." And that's close to true enough, Chansung thinks. He spares one last look at Wooyoung, who's now pulling his shirt back down and running away from a laughing Taecyeon, before indulging Junho in their usual stage games.

 

Then it's the little things after that.

 

"Eat this." Junho is smart, systematic, and methodical. Junho is results-oriented. Junho, more than any of them, is ready for the lifestyle of the rich and famous. "You haven't been following your diet properly, and normally I wouldn't care but we have a major fansigning in three days and I can't let you collapse in exhaustion."

"So your response is to pass me a banana," Chansung responds with a bemused smirk. "Why give me comfort food?" It's perfectly yellow. Perfectly fresh.

"Potassium," Junho says like it's the most obvious thing in the world. He rummages through his bag, accidentally elbowing Chansung's side as he undoes the zipper. "And this is just the start. I got you iron supplements, you're starting to look too pale and I'm worried about anemia."

Wooyoung plops himself on the couch to Chansung's left. "Chansung isn't the only one who doesn't get enough sleep."

Junho winces visibly. "I did _not_ need to know that. Guys, whatever you two do in the bedroom-"

"He means," Chansung interrupts, "that none of us have a healthy sleeping pattern. I'm not the only one possibly exposed to anemia."

"Yah, Junho," Taec calls from across the room. The new brand of concealer works perfectly on his eyebags. "You're next." Junho rolls his eyes and saunters over to the dresser. The make-up artist descends on him quickly.

"He's such a caring bestfriend, huh?" Wooyoung mutters quietly for only Chansung to hear. 

"Junho and I have history, hyung, everyone knows that."

Wooyoung nods and doesn't say another word. Chansung concentrates on his banana.

 

The fact is that Chansung and Wooyoung haven't actually done anything interesting in the bedroom despite Junho's protests on the matter. At most, they sleep beside each other with Chansung's arm wrapped loosely around Wooyoung's waist, Wooyoung resting his head comfortably on Chansung's shoulder. Maybe things would have been raunchier by now if they were anyone else but idolhood gives people two things: unbending paranoia and consistent exhaustion.

Chansung startles awake when a towel hits his face.

"Yah, I told you to lock your room if you're going to be like that." Waking up to Junho's nagging has become an everyday occurance.

Chansung pulls the towel off, careful movements to not disturb Wooyoung. He watches blearily as Junho rummages through Chansung's drawers for... something. One of the hundreds of things they share as best friends. They've lost track of who owns what, but Chansung has much fewer things hence much more storage space.

"We didn't do anything," Chansung mumbles sleepily. Wooyoung frowns and nuzzles deeper into Chansung's arms. "And I locked my room, hyung. You just happen to have a key."

"Use the deadbolt, at least." Junho glances at the back of Chansung's door. "Or install a deadbolt _then_ use it, much better privacy that way."

"Why are you in such a hurry?" Wooyoung asks, still not surfacing from his spot, his face half buried in Chansung's armpit. "We have a late schedule today."

" _Some_ of us actually have to be in early at the studio because of tight production deadlines," Junho quips back. He slams Chansung's drawer shut. Loudly. "Hey Chansungie, can I borrow this?" He raises a cream-colored tube of... something. They have too much stuff and it's too early in the day to do mental inventories. "I can't find mine and the coordis have been stressing over my dry skin."

Mositurizer, then. Chansung squints at it. "I think that one's yours in the first place. I don't buy that brand."

"So that's where it went." Junho nods knowingly. "Wonderful. Hey, I gotta go, Minjun-hyung and I have songs to mix. See you guys at lunch." Junho strides out the door, pokes his head back in and follows up with, "And if you're going to do anything funny, _lock the door_." He leaves without waiting for a response.

"Why does he have your key?" Wooyoung raises his head and tries to rub the sleep out of his eyes. He pushes himself off the bed, waits for Chansung to do the same.

"My closet is his closet," Chansung answers. He doesn't meet Wooyoung's eyes.

Wooyoung is much quieter than usual for the rest of the day.

 

"So... what are you two?"

This isn't a conversation Chansung wants to have while sitting in an out-of-the-way corner of a busy photography studio. Magazine shoots for a Romanian fashion brand that's trying to penetrate the Korean market and release their autumn collection. They're all wearing shades of pastel earth. Chansung can't even pronounce the name. It's all the same to him by now.

Junho, on the other hand, has probably researched the company's style all the way to its inception.

"We're not anything, Junho," Chansung says neutrally. "We're just... hanging out."

"If I may disagree," Junho leads in. Chansung isn't surprised that he already has opinions. "You're starting to get touchy with him. And he's allowing himself to be touched. Thats not 'not anything'." Junho completes that with finger quotes.

"I'm always touchy with everyone." Chansung sounds defensive even to himself. He glances at Wooyoung talking with the digital artist about his set. "And I'm pretty sure Khun-hyung has-"

"Don't bring Khun into this," Junho says with a quick laugh. They both watch Khun as he dazzles the camera, looking immaculate in an overcoat the color of dried leaves. "He's on a completely different scale. He worms his way into people's lives before they know any better. Like some personal space invader."

"You make him sound like an alien." But Chansung admits that Junho is pretty much right. "Although he's the one who broke into Wooyoung's shell first. If Khun-hyung hadn't, we'd still be dealing with bitchface ice-prince." As they lovingly called Wooyoung back in the days.

"That's true." Junho takes a sip of bottled water, careful not to ruin his lip gloss. "But you two?"

"We're not anything, hyung," Chansung repeats. This is really not a conversation he wants to have. With Junho, more than anyone.

"I'm just asking," Junho repeats, feigning innocence complete with raised hands and an attempt at wide eyes. "Because I think Wooyoung thinks it's something. Hey, I think it's our turn. Come on, the sooner we get this done, the sooner I can get rid of these heel lifts."

"I don't feel your pain."

"You and your abnormally long torso need to get off my case, man."

 

They're split into Old Boys and Young Boys again on the way home. It's an unspoken segregation by now, their default state of grouping. Wooyoung leans tiredly against Chansung and closes his eyes. He's half asleep in a matter of seconds.

Chansung meets Junho's eyes reflected on the tinted window. Junho is frowning at him. Chansung keeps his face blank and turns away.

 

"There's a flower in your hair," Chansung tells Wooyoung when he drops on the sand beside him. "You look soooooo pretty." The bonfire throws a tone of warm yellow on everything, it doesn't matter that the moon is full and the stars are littering the sky. The beach is always lovely this time of year.

Wooyoung laughs, picks the flower off and twirls it in his fingers. It looks brown in the firelight. "Fan service," he explains. "Ran into a few of the calmer fans. Thought I'd let them take a few pictures since they were so polite. And I'm pretty even without the flower, thank you very much."

"This is a vacation for a reason," Chansung reminds him. "Not supposed to be idols today, remember?"

The others are scattered all over the resort. Taec's probably still on the phone with management, Khun still on the phone with whoever. Minjun might as well be checking out the local bar. Junho is sitting much closer to the water, contemplative and introspective and in one of his moods.

Chansung lays an arm around Wooyoung's shoulders, never mind that the fire is warm enough.

"This is nice," Wooyoung says peacefully.

"Yeah, I'm glad we decided to push through with this break."

"Not just that." Wooyoung twines his fingers with Chansung's, but loosely enough that they could easily pretend it's not intimate. "I mean being alone with you. Out here. I like it." He threads the flower into Chansung's hair. "And you're sooooo pretty."

Chansung laughs and lets Wooyoung play with his hair. Junho used to do it all the time. "I'm prettier than you, hyung. And I like it too."

He doesn't know how long they stay like that, close, playful, but the moment breaks when Wooyoung leans closer while Chansung is half spaced out. Their lips aren't pressed together for a long time, but... Chansung could tell by Wooyoung's expression when he pulls back that it was long enough to form a conclussion.

"You're..." Wooyoung's eyes are sad, but the rest of his expression is guarded. "You haven't thought about what we are yet, haven't you? What we might be?"

Chansung is still blinking through the mood whiplash, taken too off-guard to respond.

Wooyoung laughs, but it sounds too full of bitter defeat. He glances away, at some spot closer to the water. At Junho, Chansung knows, who yelps when a large wave splashes into the sand. "I'm interested in us being something," Wooyoung says, looking back at Chansung. "But you have to make up your mind. I'm not him. And I won't be him for you."

"Hyung." Chansung knows what he wants to say. He doesn't know how to say it. "I..."

"Tell me when you're ready?" Wooyoung asks, patting Chansung's cheek lightly. Distantly. A decidedly friendly gesture.

"What are you guys talking about?"

Chansung twitches guiltily, looks up at Junho standing over them looking cold and slightly wet.

"Nothing," Wooyoung answers. "Just clearing up a few things. I'm gonna look for Minjun, maybe he's found the good drinks by now." He leaves without meeting their eyes.

"Did you know you have a flower in your hair?" Junho plucks the flower off Chansung's head as he sits down. "Is it from Wooyoungie?"

Chansung doesn't want to talk about Wooyoung right now. Not with Junho.

Never with Junho.

Chansung takes the flower and tosses it into the fire.


End file.
